Gale Force Ch. 07

Sunday visits became a regular occurrence for Gale after that. He never asked and I never invited but he always ended up at my place, watching TV or playing video games with me. He brought drinks and I prepared lunch for us, usually some kind of quiche, which I later learned was his favorite. We started out on opposite sides of the couch and gradually migrated together, with Gale laying his head on my lap.

The episodes went on and Gale held more dinner parties, although subsequent ones included Jhonna and myself as attendees and not just merely 'caterers'. Finally, just before the Christmas break, Gale came over earlier than usual and was dressed in a nice pair of slacks, silk shirt and a suit jacket.

"Going to a funeral?"

He grinned and gave me a long hug. "Get dressed. We're going out to lunch."

"What?" Obviously, I hadn't planned on going anywhere.

"You heard me. We're going out."

"Oh, Gale! I've got a quiche in the oven ... "

"And I know you have a programmable oven. Set that sucker and let's blow this joint." There was no arguing with him. Every excuse I brought up was quickly shot down and he dragged me up the stairs, throwing my closet doors open and rummaging through my clothes. "Jesus Christ! Where are your clothes?"

I didn't want to admit to him that I wasn't really a clothes horse and with handling craft services for the production as well as his and Ron and Dan's occasional parties, I had no time to shop. Plus, I had no head for fashion so my wardrobe mostly consisted of jeans, pinpoint buttondowns and tennis shoes. "I ... "

"They are paying you, aren't they?"

"Yeah. I've got money. I just don't have any time."

He rubbed his face. "You know, for someone so intelligent, you're full of shit." I avoided his eyes as tears burned in mine. "I know the real reason you don't have any other clothes. You're embarrassed about your weight."

Bingo! I was so stunned that all I could do was stutter and he put his hands on either side of my face, forcing me to look at him. His expression was kind and supportive and I couldn't help the tears from escaping. He wiped them away and pulled me into his arms, holding me close until my sobs became sniffles.

"Cary, you're not fat."

"Yes, I am."

"Just because you have a belly? How many pounds overweight do you think you are?"

"At least thirty-five."

"That's nothing!" He pulled back and caught my eyes again. "That's baby fat." I sniffled, trying to look away but he wouldn't let me. "Besides, I wouldn't have eaten your food if you weren't a little heavy. Everyone knows that the best chefs aren't skinny." I had to smile at that. "Now, throw something on and let's go shopping."

I did as he asked. I decided not to think about it because I wanted to believe his words: You're not fat. No one had ever said that to me and I wanted to bask in that glory for awhile. He went downstairs and patiently waited while I pulled on some jeans and a Von Dutch t-shirt and washed my face and brushed my teeth. I programmed the oven just before we left and he opened the door and took a deep whiff.

"What kind?"

"Snow crab."

"Ah, you're killing me!"

"Hey, you're the one who decided that you wanted to go out, not me."

Toronto was bustling this morning but Gale knew the hippest stores and they were mostly out of the mainstream so we didn't have much trouble with crowds. I ended up buying quite a bit of stuff, so much so that the back of his rental car was stuffed. We sped back to the apartment and I changed into my choice of the new clothes, opting for a breast-hugging shirt, flared pants and a Matrix-like duster. It took me another 15 minutes to style my hair and when I came downstairs, the approval in Gale's eyes almost made me cry.

"Wow!" He smiled as I pirouetted for him. "It's a wonder what a couple hundred dollars will do!"

"Am I presentable now, Sir Harold?"

"Presentable and delectable. Like the breasts."

I laughed. I forgot that they were so prominently displayed in the new shirt. "I like them, too. They come in quite handy."